A Dance of Blood and Fire (SYOC)
by NoLongerWilling
Summary: An AU of sorts. 100 years after the end of the ASoIaF, King Aerys III Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. But when he suddenly, if not unexpectedly, dies, the realm is thrown into chaos and war. Three different branches of House Targaryen claim the crown, and so begins a second deadly dance blood and fire. (SYOC IS OPEN!)
1. Prologue: Gathering Storm Clouds

**Greetings everyone! I am very pleased to be back with a new story, and characters, most of which will hopefully be provided by all of you! I have chosen to leave all the original houses intact, as I feel that this will make things easier on the reader (and me). I am also not really going to go over how A Song of Ice and Fire ended, as I think it will be more enjoyable if I focus on the story at hand. I have induced a short backstory below, and the prologue and SYOC information are both under that.**

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A century after the War of Five King's and the Long Night ended, Queen Daenerys I Targaryen's grandson King Aerys III dies in his sleep, an old man. Aerys will be remembered as a good king, but one who forgot to name his heir. He leaves behind seven children, five sons and two daughters, as well as twelve grandchildren, most of whom want something for themselves: power: wealth: revenge: a dragon: the Iron Throne.

Of his many children and grandchildren, three stand out as the most likely heirs: his eldest child and daughter Princess Rhaelin, a woman grown with four children of her own: his second child and first son, the disabled Crown Prince Aerion, who holds Dragonstone: and his second son and third child, Prince Aegon, the darling of the realm, who hides lust for power and wealth behind bright smiles and gracious words.

But even as the three Targaryen heirs make their plans and look for allies among the Houses of the realm, both the grate and small. The people of Westeros, smallfolk and nobles alike, look in the direction of Harrenhal's massive ruins and wonder if Prince Daemon Targaryen, eldest child and only son of Princess Rhaelin, rider of Rhaegal, last of the great dragons, called 'the Mad Prince' since his imprisonment and torture in the Dreedfort's dungeons; will be the one to decide this dance of blood and fire.

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**Prologue: Gathering Storm Clouds**

The silver-haired prince leaned heavily against the black stone parapet, fatigued and distress clear in every line of his body. His royal purple eyes, which held wisdom that far surpassed his years, scanned the wind wiped waters and stormy sky of Blackwater Bay for any sign of his daughter or her dragon.

"Brother," the soft voice made the prince turn his head, although he already knew who had spoken.

"Aemon," Crown Prince Aerion Targaryen greeted his younger brother, before turning his eyes back to the sky and sea. "What are you doing all the way up here?"

"Maester Wyman sent me to fetch you," replied Aemon, wary of his older brother's temper. "You shouldn't be out in weather such as this," he looked up at the gathering storm clouds. "It's going to start raining soon."

Aerion sighed and shifted back to face his brother. "That old man knows me too well," he muttered. "And I know it's going to rain, I could have told you that this morning if you'd wanted."

"Your mood is as black as those storm clouds, brother," Aemon observed as he tried not to smile.

"Stop jesting Aemon," Aerion snapped, annoyed. "It's not your child who's missing."

Aemon opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could get the words out, his brother raised a hand to stop him.

"Leave it, Aemon," Aerion said, voice cold. "Leave it and help me inside. I may not like Wyman, but he's a good Maester, and I trust him."

Aemon nodded and moved to Aerion's side, taking most of his older brother's weight on to his broad shoulders. Gently he guided Aerion's left arm around his neck before half kneeling and picking him up. Aerion inhaled sharply, and Aemon realized that his brother must be in far more discomfort than he had been letting on.

It still amazed Aemon that, despite being six years Aerion's younger, he could carry his older brother as easily as a could any of his young nieces or nephews. Granted, Aerion did weigh more, but years rigorous training made the exact weight nothing to Aemon.

"I'm never going to get used to doing this," Aemon muttered aloud as he kicked open the door that led inside.

"Get used to what?" Aerion asked, his voice was tight with pain.

"Carrying you," Aemon replied.

"Ah. Do you remember what it was like before?"

The question surprised Aemon, he and Aerion rarely spoke of the time before, but when they did it was always memories and stories of their siblings, not about their relationship, or what it had been.

"I remember," Aemon said, at last, knowing he had to say something more. He fished his sentence in his head: I remember what it was like to chase you around the Red Keep, laughing: I remember what it was like to spar with you and that it was fun, even though I always lost: I remember what it was like to watch Aegon push you off Belraxs, to hear both your legs splinter.

Aemon knew he would never say any of those things aloud, especially to his older brother. Aerion had no idea he had even seen what had happened on that fateful day, a decade before, when Aegon, the darling prince of the realm, had tried to kill his older brother, the Crown Prince, by knocking him from his dragon's back during a training exercise.

The official story was that Aerion had forgotten to fasten part of his saddle, and that was the reason he had fallen, but even had Aemon not seen Aegon push Aerion, he knew that his older brother never would have been forgetful enough not to triple check every strap and buck on his saddle before a flight. Aemon ground his teeth together, one day, he planned to get his revenge on Aegon, for himself, and for Aerion, who belonged, more than most Targaryens, to the open sky.

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**Ok, so for SYOC I will mostly need Targaryens, as this story is centered around the family. However, I will also need a lot of characters from the major houses, as they all have an important role to play as well. Anyway, I need three of King Aerys children, a girl, and two boys, they are between the ages of 27 and 17. Princess Rhaelin's three daughters, who are between ages 17 and 10. And depending on who you want their parents to be, none of King Aerys sons are married, so there's plenty of room for possible love interests or wives as well. King Aerys grandchildren could be anywhere from 13 to not even a few days. A handful of Targaryen bastards would be welcome as well. To get your character to me you can either leave a review or send me a PM. Thank you!**

**SYOC Profile for _A Dance of Blood and Fire_**

**(also on my profile page)**

**1: Full Name:**

**2: Titles/Alias:**

**3: Occupation:**

**4: Sex/Gender:**

**5: Age:**

**6: Sexuality:**

**7: Appearance (as detailed as possible, but nothing outside the realm of possibility):**

**8: Personality (detailed):**

**9: Strengths (at least three):**

**10: Weaknesses (at least three):**

**11: Ambition(s):**

**12: Background:**

**13: Romance (would prefer a yes, but can be a no):**

**14: Weapon(s):**

**15: Suggestions for your character (plot-wise):**

**Opinions of…**

**King Aerys III Targaryen:**

**Crown Prince Aerion Targaryen:**

**Prince Aegon Targaryen:**

**Princess Rhaelin Targaryen:**

**Daemon Targaryen 'The Mad Prince':**


	2. Chapter One: Sunset of an Age

**So here is the next chapter of this story! I did not originally plan to write it so fast, but I did, so here it is! :) I want to give special thanks to _Lady Castaigne_, _Kaiser Greedy_, and _Kay of Arda_ for the characters they submitted! I also want to thank _Kaiser Greedy_, _mirakulis_, and _Kay of Arda_ for their reviews! As I know you are, as a reader, likely eager to get to the story, I have included the SYOC information at the bottom. Enjoy the chapter! - Daeron Hill**

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**Chapter One: Sunset of an Age**

Grace I and Daemon I

POV Grace Arryn

The sky over King's Landing was a magnificent sight that evening. Full of soft pinks, purples, and blues, with gold highlighting the large foreboding storm clouds that hovered ominously over Blackwater Bay. Grace Arryn, dowager queen of the Seven Kingdoms, stood atop of one of the Red Keeps towers, arms crossed, studying the city that lay spread out below through critical azure eyes.

Despite the fact she was nearly sixty, the dowager queen was still in good health, although her once blond hair had become gray with age. Grace was also still a formidable opponent when she chose to be, and her mind and temper were as sharp as ever: like Valyrian steel, her friends and foes all said. She had ruled the Seven Kingdoms, alongside her the late husband King Aerys III, for the better part of thirty years, and had proved herself a wise and just ruler in that time.

Yet now, with her children and grandchildren squaring off against one another in another Dance of Dragons, Grace found herself powerless; and that, more then anything she had faced in her time as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, scared her.

"Grandmother?" Grace turned at the soft voice, wondering who might have sought her out atop the tower. She look to see her eldest granddaughter, Vaella, moving towards her across the red stones, a black shadow in the twilight.

Grace smiled softly, "Hello, Ella," she said, using her granddaughter's childhood nickname. "What brings you to me this evening?"

"I wanted to see you," Vaella replied, stoic as ever, her emotions well hidden. "I fly back to Summerhall tonight, under cover of darkness."

Grace nodded, understanding her granddaughter's mindfulness of the way things now stood between her and Aegon, who had proclaimed himself king within hours of his father's death. "You are wise, to use the cover of dark," Grace told Vaella. "But still be careful, darkness dose not hide all things. I would hate for any harm to come to you."

Vaella noded, and Grace could see that her granddaughter had understood the hidden meaning behind her words: _I would hate to see you fall, as Aerion did._ Grace would never say the words aloud, especially not in King's Landing, and particularly not now, with Aegon on the throne. But she had long ago learned to conceal words within other words, and the talent was once again serving her well.

"You believe then," Vaella said after a moment, her words carefully chosen. "That what happened, to Uncle Aerion, was not an accident?"

"I know my children well, granddaughter," Grace said after a long moment of thought. "I am not as blind as they seem to believe. I know Aegon loves power and wealth and will do anything to acquire more, even murder if necessary. And I know that Aerion's ears turn red when he is lying."

"And his ears were red the day he told grandfather and the court that he did not remember what happened," Vaella said, understanding flashing across her long face.

"They were the color of Highgarden roses, dear," replied Grace. She paused, then continued. "You have nightmares about what happened that day, Vaella, I know you do," she did not wait for her granddaughter to deny or confirm what she had said, before pressing on. "Aemon dose to, and I have comforted him after they are over. I am well aware of what happened that day, and the lies told about it, but I cannot change the past, only make choices that will affect the future. Keep that in mind, Vaella, those words may help you someday."

Her granddaughter noded, and Grace could tell by the look in her gray eyes, that she had given Vaella much to think about. Grace knew she could not change the fact that Aerys had not named an heir, and she acknowledged that she could not change Aegon's mind about his claim on the crown and throne. She and Rhaelin, Vaella's mother, had been estranged for many years, and Grace knew she could not stop her elder daughter from claiming the crown either.

Aerion to, she knew, was a lost cause, her firstborn son would have been willing to bend the knee, Grace winced at the term, to Rhaelin, who was older than him, but never to Aegon. Even had things not been as they were between the two, Aerion's sense of honor and duty would never have let him allow Aegon's claim to stand. Grace recognized her only hope lay in somehow convincing her two eldest children to work together. It was a task Grace knew she could not accomplish alone, but thought she knew someone who could bring Rhaelin and Aerion together.

"It seems I am going to Harrenhal," she said aloud. "If I cannot force my children to corporate with one another, then perhaps their shared male heir can."

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POV Daemon Targaryen

The sunset over the black and twisted towers of Harrenhal was a sight to behold, but it meant nothing more than the passing of yet another day to Daemon Targaryen, who lay on his bed within the top chamber of Wailing Tower; the fact that the chamber was open to the sky meant nothing to the Targaryen Prince.

_Yet you complain about it every time it rains_ Rhaegal pointed out.

"Shut up," Daemon snapped at his dragon, who was housed below him in one of the vast vaults below him. "Finished eating that idiot Maester mother sent."

He got no response from the massive scarlet dragon, not that Daemon cared, it was better when his dragon was not talking to him. Somewhere, in the back of the maze of confused pathways that made up his mind, Daemon was aware that dragons could not talk, but it was a fact that he had never fully registered.

Rolling off the mess of blankets, pillows, and rocks that made up his bed, Daemon collected Longclaw from it's hiding place and began to make his way down the to the courtyard. For anyone else it would have been a nightmarish scramble, but after two years, Daemon was barely aware of the danger; either he would fall to his death or he would not, there was no middle ground.

Harrenhal had stood for a little over four hundred years, only a few years more than the Targaryens had ruled the Seven Kingdoms. Yet in that time there had been many periods when the castle had been left empty, and since the time of Queen Daenerys, Harrenhal had been left to the elements. No one waned to disturb its empty halls and melted towers; to live in a place that had seen the fall of every house, and ruler, who had ever held lordship over it.

So Harrenhal had been left empty, given over to the wind and rain for close to a century, unused, save by a handful of daring outlaws, who had quickly fled, fearing the ghosts that were said to wonder its halls. That was how things had stood until two years before when, in the bloody aftermath of the Red Rebelling, in which House Bolton had once again risen agents their Stark overlords, Daemon had landed Rhaegal in the abandoned main courtyard.

He had landed in the courtyard and taken Harrenhal for his own because, to him, it was the only place in all Seven Kingdoms that was broken as he was. Daemon had survived a quarter year in the blacklist pits beneath Dreadfort, a captive of the Bolton's, who had broken him, both mentally and physically, in that time. So badly that when his Uncle Aemon carried him out of the smoking ruins of the Dreadfort, Daemon had barely been able to remember his own name, let alone his mother's face.

It had been the loss of identity, along with many of his memoirs, that had pushed Daemon over the edge and into madness. It had taken him six long weeks just to say a word after his rescue, and when he had found his voice, all Daemon had been able to speak of was what he had seen and endured, which had horrified his family beyond words. Not long after, unable to bear what was happening around him, Daemon had fled, afraid that if he stayed, he would hurt one of the people he could only remember fragments of, but loved anyway.

Harrenhal had been an obvious choice to Daemon: no one wanted it: no one was likely to want it: and no one would bother him once he chose it as his home. He had be right in most regards, the only people who did bother him were Maesters his mother occasionally sent to him. Rhaegal always ate them, saving Daemon the trouble of having to deal with them himself. In any case, it was at Harrenhal that Daemon had made his home, making him second Targaryen to have lived there, although Daemon doubted he shared much in common with Rhaena Targaryen, the older sister of Jaehaerys the First.

Reaching the ground Daemon drew Longclaw and balanced the sword in this 'good' left hand. The only defiance between his hands as far as Daemon could tell, was that his left hurt more when it rained, and that it had two fingers and a thumb, as opposed to his right just had two fingers; ironically they were the two he was missing on the left. "You would think Lord Raynald could have just picked a hand to chop off," Daemon muttered as he slowly swung Longclaw through the air. "It would make my bloody life easier."

Yet easy had never been a part of Daemon Targaryen's life, and a big part of him loved the change of balancing Longclaw in his ruined hands, of learning how to fight again, of the hope of one day for filing the promise he had made himself: that one day, no matter when or how, he would return to his family, and become the son and heir he should have always been. Daemon exhaled and swung Longclaw again, his mind would heal given time, he hoped, but he would have to heal and reteach his body himself.

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**Ok, so for SYOC I mostly need Targaryens, as this story is centered around the family. However, I will also need a lot of characters from the major houses, as they all have an important role to play as well. Anyway, I need two more of King Aerys children, both boys, who are somewhere between two of Princess Rhaelin's three daughters, who are between ages 16 and 10. Prince Aerion and his sister-wife Princess Alaena have a daughter named Visenya, who is 10, and her name is all I know about her. There's plenty of room for possible love interests of any of the Targaryen Princes, as well as bastards of both King Aerys and Prince Aegon. Any grandchildren of King Aerys could be anywhere from about 13 to not even a few days, depending on their parents, and I will need characters that young. To get your character to me you can either leave a review or send me a PM, the profile I created for this SYOC can be found on my profile page or at the bottom of the prologue chapter. Thank you!**


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